


The Fear is Gone

by afreezingnote



Series: Thy Part With Me [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:06:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afreezingnote/pseuds/afreezingnote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A companion piece to A New Commandment from Dean's perspective.  Canon divergent after 8.23.  Formerly titled "Two Hearts that Shouldn't Talk to Each Other Become Close," but that was unwieldy.  Teaser from chapter 2:</p><p>It wasn’t often Dean invited personal discussion, and Sam was loath to waste the opportunity.  The first question was obvious and teasing in a brotherly way.  Sam only asked it to make the situation lighter.  “Have you ever--”</p><p>Dean anticipated him.  “Yeah.  I had a couple years while you were at Stanford and dad was hunting alone more often.  No one around to watch me?  Of course I did.”</p><p>“And you liked it?”</p><p>“Sex is sex, Sam.”</p><p>“So, was there ever a guy before Cas that you, you know, felt seriously about?”</p><p>“Cas isn’t exactly a dude,” Dean joked.  His sipped at his coffee, stalling again.</p><p>Sam knew he was going to answer because of the faraway look in his eyes and the tight, bitter smile that tugged, unbidden at Dean’s lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Nudity, sensuality, and sexual thoughts.
> 
> Exploring this fic from Dean's perspective brought me more than I expected. I plan to write some follow up chapters detailing Dean and Cas's adventures in dating.
> 
> Mentions Jimmy Novak to establish the departure of his soul. Slight mention of Dean/others as he compares the intimacy of washing Cas to having shower sex in the past. 
> 
> I haven't had another set of eyes on this, so any mistakes are my own.

 

"When we walk down the street  
The wind sings our name in rebel songs.  
The sounds of the night should make us anxious,  
But it's much too late when the fear is gone."  
Promises by Megadeth

Dean and Sam hadn’t taken a case in a week because Dean refused to leave the bunker unattended while Cas was out in the world alone with this one location as his reference point to return to the Winchesters.  Dean had taken to sitting at the table closest to the staircase with his phone out and turned all the way up to ensure he wouldn’t miss a knock or a ring.  The only important call he had received in the last seven days was an update from Kevin who had left the bunker three days earlier to search for his mother, aided by a facial recognition program Charlie had linked to the largest network of cameras she could hack into at once.  Kevin had let Dean know that he had worked through his first series of leads with no luck and had stopped to reorganize at Rufus’s cabin.

Dean had been getting close to calling it a night when a measured series of thunks sounded on the bunker door.  The noise was distant but reached Dean downstairs because he was listening, hoping for it.  He sat straight up, muscles tensed to stand, but paused for a second, wondering if it had only been wishful thinking.  But a second was enough to decide he had to check even if it turned out to be his imagination getting the better of him, and he bounded up the stairs.  Dean wasted no time in wrenching the door open.  He had had every intention of hugging the being standing in front of him, wrapping him in an embrace as tight as the one in Purgatory, and speaking into his ear, saying, “Come home,” as soon as he saw him again, but his intentions proved moot as Castiel collapsed into his arms.

Sam had heard Dean on the stairs and followed him up.

“Cas!” Sam said, slipping behind Dean to shut the door before throwing Cas’s other arm around his shoulders to help get him down to the sleeping quarters.  They stopped in front of the room Cas had stayed in while he was injured, which everyone had understood to be his even without Dean putting things he thought Cas might like inside from time to time.  There were shelves now, a couple of pictures of Dean and Sam, one of them with Bobby too, and now draped over the top of the taller bookcase, a kite in the shape of a phoenix with sculpted wings and three tufted streamers for tail feathers painted orange, red, and yellow.

“I’ve got him from here,” Dean said.

“Okay,” Sam said as he ducked out of the way.  “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

Dean hummed in acknowledgment and added, “G’night, Sammy.”

He shuffled the last few steps into the room and maneuvered Cas onto the bed.  He made sure Cas’s head landed on a pillow before moving to the foot of the bed and pulling off Cas’s shoes.  Cas made a disgruntled noise like a displeased cat, but Dean ignored him in favor of dragging the sheet over Cas.  As his hand fell away, Cas caught his sleeve.

“How is Sam?” Cas asked.

“He’s not perfect, but he’s doing better.  He had a fever that kept him in bed for about a week, but he’s been up the last couple of days and had some solid food.  I think he’ll be alright.”

“Good,” Cas said, letting go and tucking his hand back under the covers.  “I was worried.”

Dean felt his lips quirk up, and it felt nice after the stress of the last weeks. Leave it to Cas to worry about them when he was travelling alone and human.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I’m just so damn glad you’re here,” Dean said.

“Hmmm,” Cas hummed, only half awake.

Now that he was somewhere soft and warm and, with Dean standing next to him, safe, sleep became more demanding.  Dean stayed there, hovering, until he was sure Cas was really asleep, and then he shook himself, thinking about how he’d called Cas creepy for doing the same thing.

…

Cas wandered into the library a little over two hours later looking marginally better than when he had arrived but still tired.  His voice was roughened with his weariness to a pitch common only, in Dean’s experience, to chain smoking whisky connoisseurs.  Dean had thought Cas was attractive blazing with power and smiting the wicked, but he was utterly unprepared for the charm of Cas blinking slowly at him under long lashes with his normally ruffled hair even more mussed from laying in bed.

He had already mostly forgiven Cas for bailing with the tablet when they last parted, and now there was no room for anger.  He wanted his family to be together and okay.  Everything else seemed unimportant.  So, when Cas joined him with a cup of coffee, he was able to enjoy their silent companionship.  He’d missed that.  Dean got the feeling that they were both taking their time drinking to drag out the moment, but eventually Cas shifted next to him.

“I feel dirty,” Cas said.

For a moment Dean felt dazed.  It was easy to forget that Castiel had human needs now.  “That happens,” he said, uselessly.  Had Cas been able to take a real shower since the Fall?  Had a good meal?  How does he even feel about losing his grace?  Shadowed memories of an alternate future where Cas was burnt out and chasing the next high made Dean’s pulse quicken anxiously.  Would Cas ask if he needed anything?  Would he know how?  But Dean could help with this.  He forced himself to calm down.  And wasn’t this Cas asking for his help now?

“I suppose I need a shower,” Cas said.

Yeah, Dean could handle this.  “I can get you some clean clothes if you want?”

Castiel was quiet for a moment. "Okay."

"Okay," Dean echoed.

He picked up their empty coffee cups and took them to the sink. Cas followed him, close as usual, and Dean showed him to the bathroom before going off to find him a change of clothes.

When Dean came back, Cas turned to him on unbalanced feet.  Dean figured he was too tired to be up.  "You look like you're about to collapse. Are you sure you want to do this now?"

"I'm not eager to go to sleep, Dean. I never liked it much. It's very jarring."

"Okay then. Do you know how everything works?”

“I’m not an infant.”

"I know that, Cas. I'm just, you know, uhhh...kind of mother hen-ing you." Dean ran his hand through his hair and lingered at the nape of his neck, his fingers scratching at the bristles there. He didn’t want Cas to feel smothered, but he didn’t want to abandon him.  He definitely didn’t want to beg off and find Cas unconscious on the floor  later because he overtaxed himself, but that would mean...

"You can stay if you want," Cas offered.

As usual, Cas saw right through him.  Dean looked intently at his shoes and shook his head as he said, "That's kind of not a thing dudes do. I mean, that's pretty weird, Cas."

Cas pierced him with his most serious gaze. "I don't care about normal."

"I know that too."

"Hmmm," Cas said. He started peeling off his socks. "You want to stay, Dean. Stay."

Dean didn’t say anything else, but he didn't leave either.  He could feel Cas’s eyes on him, but Cas didn’t hesitate long before stripping the rest of his clothes off, leaving them in a pile next to the sink perhaps a foot from Dean’s feet, which meant Cas was that close to him.  Naked.  To busy himself with something other than watching Cas walk to a shower stall, Dean picked them up and folded them.  It didn’t help much.  Instead of seeing it, he was imagining the curve of his calves, the way his hips would move, and the firmness of those glutes.  He sat the clothes on the other side of the sink where Cas's clean clothes rested and boosted himself up to sit on another.

Then there was nothing else to look at but Cas.  And _holy shit_.  Those shoulders had to be a sin.  He’d imagined--and he had imagined--Cas slimmer under the trenchcoat.  In Purgatory, during one of their circuitous conversations about Castiel’s ability to use the portal they were hunting for, he’d asked if Cas could get through because of Jimmy being human, and Cas told him that Jimmy’s soul had departed when Raphael killed him at Chuck’s and that his body is a replication, which might not quite count as human since it had only been inhabited by an angel.  If God had gone through the trouble of an exact recreation, Dean figured Jimmy must have been a runner or a swimmer before Cas possessed him to have muscles like that.  Exquisite muscles that rippled as Cas messed with the water temperature.  Cas stepped under the stream of water, and his hands came up to push his drenched hair out of his face.  As the water coursed down his body, he moaned softly.  Dean gripped the sink on either side of his thighs and told the blossom of warmth in his stomach to back off.

"I never expected this to be so pleasant," Cas said.

Cas leaned against the side of the shower stall and only moved enough to rest against the opposite side.

“You okay over there, Cas?” Dean asked.

Cas sighed in response and said, “I am inertia.”

Then he started laughing.  Dean couldn’t remember hearing it before.  Cas seemed surprised at the sounds coming out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself.  His head fell back and his eyes crinkled.  He was beautiful.

It seemed, suddenly, very stupid that Dean couldn’t be intimate with Cas--look at him for any length of time without feeling shame coil in his chest, touch him, or, if he dared, kiss him--because it wasn’t normal, according to--to who?  John Winchester?  Other hunters? Fundamental Christians?  Besides, if Cas was tired enough to be an immovable object, Dean could be his helpful unstoppable force.  Dean shucked his clothes in seconds and padded silently over to Cas who was leaning fully against the dividing wall, noiseless laughter still shaking his shoulders.  When Cas’s lids fluttered open to meet his gaze, Dean was treated to the full effect of those dark blue, burning hot eyes, which were like a pair of some super-luminous stars, ancient and brimming with otherworldliness.  As Cas tracked the trail of a water droplet down his body, Dean knew he’d made the right decision.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said.

The familiar, calm greeting made Dean smile hard enough his cheeks ached.  “Hey,” Dean said.

He leaned over Cas to pick up a bottle on a ledge to his left. The movement brought their chests centimeters from touching.  The tension between them was unmistakable, and Dean felt relieved and elated.  Cas was so still, hesitating even to breathe.

“Come here,” Dean said.

Cas tilted his head, unsure.

“Come on,” Dean encouraged, stepping under the shower head.

Cas met him in the middle. A sharp pop echoed across the room as Dean uncapped the lid of the shampoo. He squeezed a measure into his palm.

“Turn around,” Dean instructed softly.

Cas complied, and Dean cupped his hand over Cas’s head, dribbling portions of shampoo in several places. Then Dean sank both hands into Cas’s hair, letting his fingers massage at the scalp and tug tufts into small peaks. He dragged his thumbs down Cas’s neck, pressing in as well as travelling down, before digging into the muscles of his shoulders. Cas groaned.  Dean knew the mix of pleasure and pain in a quality massage, and he’d been told he was good.  He hoped Cas agreed.  After a moment, he let his hands fall to rest on Cas’s shoulders and pulled him back to angle his head under the water.

“Close your eyes,” Dean said.

As he rinsed the shampoo out, Dean marveled at how thick and soft Cas’s hair was.  He was pleased by how well he managed to keep the suds out of Cas’s eyes.  He’d had sex in the shower, rushed the morning after, but he had never done this for anyone before.  He let his fingers tease along Cas’s scalp, enjoying the way Cas leaned into it.  When he could feel no more slick residue in Cas’s hair, he let his hands drop and asked for the bottle of soap.

Cas retrieved it and held it over his shoulder.  Dean’s fingers brushed his as he took it.  Cas was quiet, but he didn’t mind.  He probably couldn’t keep up with conversation, concentrated as he was on exploring Cas’s body.  He wondered why they’d waited so long to do this.  He slid his palms down Cas’s chest, feeling his nipples harden against the heels of his hand.  Cas shivered as Dean brushed his ribs, and Dean made note of his being ticklish for future reference.  As Dean touched the juncture of Cas’s thighs and abdomen, Cas gasped.  He was so responsive, and Dean struggled to keep some measure of composure.  He wanted to talk to Cas about a lot of things, about them, before they plunged into sex, but when he curled his hand around Cas’s cock and found him halfway to an erection, Dean almost lost his resolve.  He gripped Cas at the base for a moment, running a mantra of _you will not jerk him off, you will not jerk him off, not yet_ through his head.  Cas was tense in his arms, worried, so Dean made himself go on.  Cas, having been discovered and accepted, relaxed immediately.  Dean smiled as he fit his hands to Cas’s calves, skimming down and lifting his ankles to wash his feet.

Cas seemed lost in thought, but he came back when Dean shut off the water.  He turned to Dean, and his expression was nakedly affectionate, ernest in a way Dean had never seen before.

“Dean,” Cas said, his voice ragged.

By the time Dean registered Cas stepping toward him and felt the hand in his hair, Cas’s lips were pressing his, insistent.  He opened for Cas and settled a hand on Cas’s hip with the other at the nape of his neck. When they drew apart, Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s. They could feel puffs of air on one another’s faces as their breathing slowed to normal. Dean slid his hand to Cas’s jaw and pulled him in for another kiss before tangling their fingers together and leading him to the towels. As they dried each other off in turns, Cas couldn’t stop smiling.  Dean knew there was an answering grin on his own face.  He leaned against the wall between two sinks after they had thrown their clothes on again.  Cas huddled closer.

“You are very warm,” Cas said, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“You’re not the only one who got a little hot and bothered.”

Cas trailed his lips up Dean’s neck, along his jaw, and up to his ear.  “You want me?” Cas asked, low and breathy.  He hadn’t expected Dean to be so willing to talk about it.

Dean settled his hands on Cas’s hips, his thumbs slipping beneath Cas’s shirt to brush at the sharp jut of bone.  “Yeah, I do.”

“Good,” Cas said.  

He kissed Dean again harder, deeper, wetter.  His fervor dragged a moan out of Dean, but Dean pulled back.

“Woah there, Casanova.”

Cas gazed at him, confused, and canted his head again.

Dean bit his lip but didn’t look away.  He sighed.

“Look, Cas.  I’ve fucked up a lot of things in my life.  I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You should know the significance your culture places on virginity isn’t relevant to me, if that’s what this is about.”

“It’s not about your v-card.  It’s about how you’re my best friend.  I should show you some respect.  It’s one of the first things you asked for.  It’s about time, right?”

Cas laughed and shook his head.  “ _Dean_.”

Dean grinned.  “But seriously.  I don’t have a great history of relationships, and you’re important.  I’d like to do this right.  Maybe date you a little.”

“Is not the purpose of dating to get to know someone?  We already know each other.”

“Yeah, in some ways.  But I don’t know your favorite color, what kind of music you like.  I bet you don’t know my favorite book.  We should know those things.  And we’ve got a lot we should talk about before we do this.”

“You’re right,” Cas agreed.  “There are many things I wish to explain.”

“But we’ll be okay,” Dean said, grabbing one of Cas’s hands and squeezing.  “We’ll get through it.”

“We--” Cas had to stop to yawn.  “Always do,” he finished.

Dean pushed off the wall, putting himself back into Cas’s intimate space.  “Sleep with me?” he asked.  “Just sleep.”

“I’d love to,” Cas said.  “I think I only fell asleep earlier because you were there.”

“Maybe we’ll both sleep better,” Dean said, leading the way up the hall and to his room.

Memory foam could not mold a more comforting fit than the curl of their limbs, and the two men drifted off into a night undisturbed by the claws of warrior’s nightmares.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah,” Dean said. “And I’ve liked dudes since forever.”
> 
> “You never told me,” Sam said, carefully neutral.
> 
> “Yeah.”
> 
> “Can I ask why?”
> 
> Dean shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
> 
> “I wouldn’t have judged you, you know that, right?”
> 
> “Sure. You’re all liberal arts college and whatnot. I just got used to hiding it, and there never was a good reason to drag all that shit up until now.”
> 
> “What shit?”
> 
> Dean stabbed at a piece of bacon, speared it, and plopped it in his mouth to avoid answering for a moment. When chewing was no longer an excuse, he set down his utensils too. “Dad was mad as hell when you left. He felt like you betrayed us, but he wanted you to come back. He didn’t give you that much shit when you did. If he ever found out, he would’ve thrown me out too, but he never woulda spoke to me again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam POV interlude. I meant for the next update to be a fluffy movie night chapter, but it didn't cooperate. So, we've got some surprise Dean back story angst!
> 
> I just realized there wasn't a space for chapter specific warnings so I'll put them here:  
> -homophobia  
> -use of a sexual slur  
> -mentions of past sexual harassment

Sam woke up smelling coffee and bacon.  He glanced at his alarm clock and saw that it was still morning but later than he’d intended to get up.  He had wanted to go for a run to start building up his stamina again after giving up the trials sapped so much out of him.  Oh, well.  He’d aim for a run tomorrow.  He threw off the covers and started casting around for clean clothes.  He knew Dean would be happy to get a full breakfast into him, and he wanted to see how Cas was doing.

Sam stretched as he picked his way through the halls to the kitchen.  He yawned.  He hated staying in bed so much because it made him more exhausted.  He could hear the bacon sizzling in the pan now, but when he got close enough to look into the kitchen, the sight that greeted him made him freeze in the doorway.

Castiel, who was wearing an old pair of Dean’s sweats and a faded t-shirt, seemed fine.  He was well enough to have Dean pressed against the counter next to the stove, kissing him, which was what gave Sam pause.  More surprising was Dean’s hand buried in Cas’s hair, holding him in place as Dean kissed him back.  Sam knew he was alone in his shock.  He’d been privy to enough of his brother’s conquests, unfortunately, to know that the soft, slow kisses Dean was exchanging with Cas spoke of familiarity.  Sam’s brain looped around a single question like a scratched record: “ _¡¿Since when?!_ ”  Before he was able to jolt his thoughts into considering some action other than standing in the doorway with his mouth open, Dean met his eyes over Cas’s shoulder.  Sam saw the burst of fear that lit up Dean’s eyes in an otherwise calm expression.

“Hi, Sam,” Dean said.

“Uh, I should probably--” Sam started.

“You might as well stay,” Dean said.  “Breakfast’s almost ready.”

Sam glanced at Cas and saw his cheeks burning red.  Cas mumbled something to Dean that sounded like an apology, but before he could step away, Dean’s hand caught at his waist.

“Don’t apologize,” Dean said quietly.  He dropped a kiss on Cas’s forehead, just below his hairline.  “I’m not gonna hide you.”

Cas smiled.  Sam felt a little guilty for witnessing such a private smile.  Sam had often felt vaguely like an intruder when Dean and Cas were together.  He remembered walking into the hotel room during the cartoon case to see them sitting face to face with their knees nearly brushing in the space between the two beds.  They’d stopped talking when he had opened the door, and Cas had practically jumped to know what he’d found out.  He’d suspected for a while that there were complicated feelings between them, but he never expected Dean to do anything about it. Well, nothing more than angst like he had after the Leviathan and after Purgatory.  

Dean started scooping food onto plates, and Cas brought one to Sam.  As they moved to sit at the table, Sam asked, “How’re you holding up, Cas?”

“I’m better now that I’m here.  It’s easier to be angry and human in the company of friends.  I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah.  I’m sorry I couldn’t finish it, but it’s good to be alive.”

They fell quiet as Dean took a seat next to Cas.  Dean sighed.  “Go ahead and ask,” he said.  He took a savage bite out of his piece of toast.

Sam sat up straighter and set down his fork.  “Well.  How long?”

“How long since me and Cas have been _me and Cas_ or how long since I’ve liked dudes?”

“Both.”

“Me and Cas started last night, so you’re not that behind on the times.”

“Early this morning really,” Cas said.

“Yeah,” Dean said.  “And I’ve liked dudes since forever.”

“You never told me,” Sam said, carefully neutral.

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask why?”

Dean shrugged.  “It’s complicated.”

“I wouldn’t have judged you, you know that, right?”

“Sure.  You’re all liberal arts college and whatnot.  I just got used to hiding it, and there never was a good reason to drag all that shit up until now.”

“What shit?”

Dean stabbed at a piece of bacon, speared it, and plopped it in his mouth to avoid answering for a moment.  When chewing was no longer an excuse, he set down his utensils too.  “Dad was mad as hell when you left.  He felt like you betrayed us, but he wanted you to come back.  He didn’t give you that much shit when you did.  If he ever found out, he would’ve thrown me out too, but he never woulda spoke to me again.”

“He might not have,” Sam said half-heartedly.

Dean gave him an incredulous look.  “When I was ten, I think, too young for any part of the situation he had me in but old enough to already understand that I liked girls and boys, we were on a hunt and one of the witnesses was really flamboyant.  When we left, dad called him a faggot and said if he ever had a kid like that he’d knock ‘em into next week.  He said men aren’t supposed to be fairies.  I know he was pissed off because the guy had been difficult with him, but it hurt like hell.”

Dean’s knuckles were white around the handle of his coffee mug.  Not knowing what to say, Sam watched Dean stare resolutely at the table.

“I know you’ve been irritated with me for acting macho before,” Dean continued.  “But I had to deal somehow.  Dad wanted me to be the perfect hunter, and you can’t show weakness or you’re incompetent.  You don’t know how many times I’ve had to justify my ability to do my job because of how I look.  You were there when Gwen said I had ‘delicate features,’ but you weren’t around--thank God--when I went into rest stop bathrooms alone and had to listen to truckers tell me how pretty I am and how nice my lips would look around their dick.  I can’t tell you how many dudes’ faces I busted against bathroom stalls for inviting themselves to a handful of my ass.  So, that’s the shit.  The way we live made me hate myself, so I had to be someone else.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Yeah, well.  It’s not your fault.  Besides, Purgatory put a lot of things into perspective.”  Dean looked at Cas wistfully, his lips turning up at the corners.  “I’ve been trying to let that bullshit go.”

Cas seemed to feel Dean’s gaze and he looked up, apparently understanding something from Dean’s words that Sam did not.  Sam watched the two of them have a silent conversation.  Between them, the muscles of their arms tensed at the same time, and Sam realized that their hands must be clasped under the table.  

“Okay,” Sam said.  “I’m happy for you.”  

He shot Dean a small smile before picking up his fork and resuming breakfast.  Dean took his lead, but after one mouthful of egg, he added, “Is there anything else you want to know?  One time offer.”

Sam glanced at him, surprised.  His mind whirred with questions and curiosities.  It wasn’t often Dean invited personal discussion, and Sam was loath to waste the opportunity.  The first question was obvious and teasing in a brotherly way.  Sam only asked it to make the situation lighter.  “Have you ever--”

Dean anticipated him.  “Yeah.  I had a couple years while you were at Stanford and dad was hunting alone more often.  No one around to watch me?  Of course I did.”

“And you liked it?”

“Sex is sex, Sam.”

“So, was there ever a guy before Cas that you, you know, felt seriously about?”

“Cas isn’t exactly a dude,” Dean joked.  His sipped at his coffee, stalling again.

Sam knew he was going to answer because of the faraway look in his eyes and the tight, bitter smile that tugged, unbidden at Dean’s lips.

“After Cassie, I met this guy on a hunt.  Patrick.  He had a ghost problem, so I didn’t have to lie to him.  We weren’t together long, so I don’t know if I...loved him, but we had fun together.  He was a good guy.”  Dean took another drink of coffee.  “I guess.  I guess I did or Bobby wouldn’t have found out.”

“Bobby knew?”

“Yeah.  A month, month and a half, after Patrick and I said our goodbyes, Bobby called me about a hunt in the same town.  Patrick was the vic.  I made him give it to someone else.  I couldn’t.  I just couldn’t go back there and pretend to be some cop that didn’t care.  I was pretty fucked up afterwards, and Bobby sussed out his phone call as the start of it.  He got the story out of me eventually with enough whiskey.

“God that was one of the shittiest days of my life.  I was so hungover.  I thought I’d vomited up my whole stomach that morning, but after Bobby told me he knew, I threw up again.  I was so fucking scared.  That he knew.  That he’d tell dad.  I begged him not to.  I was terrified out of my mind.  Bobby didn’t ever tell anybody though.  I never thanked him for that.  I never slept with another dude after Patrick.”

Dean pushed his plate away and sighed.  “Please tell me that’s everything you want to know.”

“Yeah, I think that’s enough for today.  But we shouldn’t treat this like a secret.”

Dean snorted.  “Kinda hard to treat it like a secret when I’m gonna be with a dude-shaped person.  Just don’t try to put a sticker on the car.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean walked carefully toward the couch, mindful of the three hot chocolates balanced on one of the drink trays he’d cleared of an empty whiskey decanter and dusty tumblers. Sam was trying to catch popcorn in his mouth, missing half as much as he made it. One piece of popcorn went in a promising trajectory but landed on the side of Sam’s nose, sticking there and not moving even when Sam attempted to dislodge it by wiggling his face. Cas laughed at him. Sam grinned as he sat up properly, plucking the popcorn off his face, and Dean couldn’t fight smiling too, his heart soaring with affection for his two favorite dorks.
> 
> Sam caught sight of Dean first, shifting in his seat and making grabby hands toward the mugs Dean carried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I apologize for the long hiatus between chapters. It turns out that, although I love to read it, writing fluff is way harder for me than writing angsty stuff. I do have parts of the following chapters written, and I have a mental map for where this is going. Hopefully, the next chapter will be more cooperative.
> 
> Note for depiction of Cas reacting with anxiety to shopping at a huge chain store. Mention of Cas's trauma after taking Sam's hell scars. Otherwise, this is pretty much fluff. Dean and Cas play 20 Questions in the car, they have a stay-at-home first date, and Cas falls asleep in Dean's lap.

“Hey Sam, do you need anything from the store?”

“Uh, no.  I don’t think so.”

“Okay.  I’m taking Cas to get basic human stuff, so if you think of anything, text me.”

As Dean picked up his keys, Sam saw that Cas had changed into a pair of Dean’s extra jeans and a grey t-shirt topped with an unbuttoned blue, black, and white checkered flannel shirt.  Dean and Cas were pretty similar in size, but Dean’s jeans sagged a tad on Cas’s waist, and his shoulders stretched the fabric of Dean’s shirts in a way that made it obvious Cas would be more comfortable getting his own wardrobe.  Aside from the slight fitting issues, Cas looked stunningly normal, and the blue shirt had clearly been a deliberate choice on Dean’s part.

“Sure thing,” Sam said.  

Dean and Cas headed toward the garage, and Sam called after them, “You let Cas pick what he likes, Dean!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean yelled back, his smile evident in his voice.

...

Dean took Cas’s hand after he pulled onto the street and let their intertwined fingers rest between their thighs on the Impala’s bench seat.   

“I have a question about what we talked about last night,” Cas said.

“What’s that?” Dean asked.

“How long is it customary to date before exploring physical intimacy?” Cas asked.

“It depends,” Dean said.  “Some people go for it after one date.  Some people take a really long time to get to know each other first.”

“What would you like to do?” Cas asked.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, so it’s different for us, and, you know, our friendship has been really close in a way that’s kind of rare, I think, but you’re my first real friend too, so it’s not like I’m an expert.”  Dean squeezed Cas’s hand briefly and traced his thumb back and forth a few times.  “A lot of people say three is the best number, but, uh, I don’t know.  What do you think?”

“Maybe we don’t need a number.  We’ll have to plan dates between cases, and that should give us time to talk about the things we need to.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed.

“So, maybe we can let things happen—”

“Naturally?  Yeah, I’d like that,” Dean said.

“Another thing you mentioned last night is that there are things we should know about each other.  What would you like to know?” Cas asked.

“Everything,” Dean said, grinning.  “I have an idea.  Let’s take turns asking stuff like 20 Questions,” Dean said.

“20 Questions?” Cas asked.

“It’s a game.  Does what it says on the box.  Let’s start simple.  What’s your favorite color?” Dean asked.

“I’ve become partial to green,” Cas said, picking at the seam of his jeans.  “What’s yours?”

“Not many people know this, but it’s purple actually,” Dean said.  “Let’s see.  What’s the earliest memory you have?”

“I still have trouble thinking of time in that way.  I’m not really sure, but the oldest chronological event of importance to humans that I remember witnessing personally was walking along a prehistoric beach, watching a little fish heave itself out of the water to begin the chain of evolution,” Cas said.

“So _I Come From the Water_ is on to something.  Huh.  Jesus, Cas, how old are you?” Dean asked.

“That’s two questions,” Cas said.

“Okay, so you get two questions in a row too.  No big.”

“Your scientists estimate the age of the earth to be approximately four and a half billion years, so I am at least that old, give or take a few million years or more.  Things get fuzzy from before accretion,” Cas said.  “My questions are for your earliest memory and your favorite book.”

“I guess my earliest memory is from when I was about three,” Dean said, his eyes more distant than the visible miles stretching ahead of them on the blacktop.  “I had a cold and Mom was fussing over me.   She’d fix up a big pot of tomato rice soup that we’d eat on the couch while we watched the afternoon soaps, and she let me have hot chocolate with almond extract before bed for my throat.  On the days when I didn’t feel like getting out of bed, she’d pull up a chair next to me and read.  Usually _Curious George_ or _Corduroy_.  Then at night, she’d sing _Hey Jude_ until I fell asleep.”

Dean fell silent for a moment and glanced at Cas, finding the former angel’s eyes on him, open and soft.  With his eyes on the road again, Dean said, “My favorite book is easy.   _Slaughterhouse-Five_ by Vonnegut.  You been down here a while now, Cas.  What’s your favorite place on earth?”

Cas watched the scenery zip past the window as he thought about his answer.

“There’s this little village in Slovakia where an old woman and her children keep bees at the edge of the forest.  She taught me to collect honey herself when I was, uh, having my mental vacation.  Anyway, since there are so many bees nearby, the clearings in that forest are covered with wildflowers, and there’s this little brook in one of the clearings.  There’s just enough water to get some babbling, as they say, over the rocks.  You can hear the brook, the wind through the trees and the grass, the birds chirping, and the bees buzzing.  Everything else is still.  That’s a nice place,” Cas said.  “You’ve travelled a lot too, Dean.  Is there someplace you’ve never been that you’d like to go to?”  

“If I didn’t hate planes so much, I’d like to go to Italy, find some little B&B with local cooking.  Greece might be cool too.  I liked reading the mythology in high school, but meeting some of the gods kind of fucked that up.  Zeus was an asshole.  Prometheus was a cool guy though, and Artemis wasn’t so bad,” Dean said.

The drive to the store passed by quickly as Dean and Cas traded recollections and desires, the only silences between them when one of them needed time to consider their response.

…

As they entered the shopping center, Dean noticed Cas’s shoulders tense slightly, the glare of the fluorescents, the swarm of colors from the towering shelves of packages, and the crowd of people overwhelming him.  Dean pressed his fingers to the small of Cas’s back, trying to ground him.

“Let’s start over here,” Dean said, pushing their cart to the left.  “You’re gonna need toothpaste and a toothbrush.”

After a moment of standing in front of the stacks of toothpaste with a variety of promises scrawled across the boxes and the racks of hanging toothbrushes, Cas seemed to find resolve in approaching shopping tactically, making his selections based on price and color primarily.  Dean would occasionally offer information about his and Sam’s preferences when Cas started to stare at products with too much indecisive focus.  

With the cart now also stocked with a brush, razors, and shaving cream, Dean led the way to the clothing section.

“Why are there so many different versions of everything?” Cas asked.

Dean shrugged.  “Money probably.  A different company makes something that’s slightly different to try to get more people to buy their product instead of the first company’s stuff.”

“How do you navigate all of this so easily?” Cas asked.

“Humans are used to being inundated with choices.  I guess it sort of comes with the territory.  I gotta tell you though big chain stores like this do stress me out.  They’re convenient, but there’s so much bustle,” Dean said.

Castiel hummed his agreement, and grabbed the handle of the shopping cart next to Dean’s hand, which pressed their forearms together.  When they pushed the cart out of the aisle and into the jungle of display racks with hanging pants and bins of folded shirts, some of the tension in Cas’s shoulders had eased.

Picking out clothes was easier for Cas.  He stuck mostly to what he was familiar with from being around the Winchesters, choosing various plaid shirts, some Henleys, and jeans.  He also grabbed some patterned button-ups and a couple of sweaters.  After adding a package each of boxers and socks, Dean helped Cas figure out his correct shoe size for a pair of boots.

“There’s sometimes variation between brands, so you always have to check to get the best fit,” Dean said.

“That seems unnecessarily complicated,” Cas said.

“You’re telling me,” Dean said.

They went to the food section last.  As they shopped, Dean had had an idea and mentally added a few more items to his list.  Dean pushed the cart to Cas on the cereal aisle.

“Pick one that looks good.  Sam likes this one,” Dean said, picking up a box of Grape-nuts.  “But Cinnamon Toast Crunch is my favorite.”

Dean let Cas pour over the multitude of cereal selections as he scanned the shelves for the granola bar things Sam likes to eat in the mornings.  Dean  set the box of granola in the cart and put a hand on Cas’s shoulder.

“Take your time.  I’m gonna go grab the meat we need, and I’ll be right back,” Dean said.

“Okay,” Cas said, busy reading descriptions.

Dean slotted two of the large tubes of hamburger meat under his arms, grabbed a couple packages of chicken breasts and pork chops, and a few shrink-wrapped packs of bun length hot dogs.  Cas was holding a box of the value version of strawberry _Special K_ when Dean got back to him.

“This one looks good,” Cas said.

“Pop it in the cart.  We’re almost done,” Dean said.

“That’s a relief,” Cas said.

Cas still had one hand on the handle of the cart, and Dean nudged his arm with his elbow.  Dean smirked at the glare Cas shot him.  He leaned over to kiss Cas on the temple.

“You’re doing good,” Dean said.

…

Back at the bunker, Dean and Cas unloaded the bags from the Impala and set them down on the kitchen floor.  Dean started sorting through their purchases as Cas went back for the last load.

“These are your bags,” Dean said, gesturing to a group he’d separated when he heard Cas return with the crinkling of plastic.

“Don’t you need help?” Cas asked.

“Sam and I have got this.  You get your room set up,” Dean said.

When Cas left with his new possessions, Dean shouted, “Sam, get your ass in here!”

“I’m coming,” Sam called back, his bare feet slapping quietly on the ground.

Sam grabbed the group of bags destined for the pantry and started rearranging the cans and boxes already on the shelves to make space.

“Hey, do we have any extra blankets?” Dean asked.

“There should be some in that closet by the showers,” Sam said.  “You cold or something?”

“Nah, I was thinking of making burgers for dinner tonight and taking Cas outside to eat,” Dean said.

“Like a picnic?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said.  “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Awww, how romantic,” Sam said, his voice mockingly singsong.

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean grumbled.

“No, I think that’s really nice.  Cas will like it,” Sam said.

“I hope so,” Dean said.

“He will.  So, since this is like a stay-at-home date, should I make myself scarce?” Sam asked.

“You can watch the movie with us.  There would be other people at a movie theatre.  It’s not that weird,” Dean said

“The movie?” Sam asked.

“The beginning of Cas’s crash course in pop culture.  I can’t decide if we should  start with _Star Wars_ or _The Lord of the Rings_ ,” Dean said.

“You’re incorrigible,” Sam said.

“Hey, I’ll make popcorn and hot chocolate. It’ll be great,” Dean said.

When he and Sam finished unpacking the groceries, Dean went to hunt down a spare blanket.  They were right where Sam had said they should be, and he pulled two pillows from an unused bedroom as well.  He carted the bundle up the stairs and out the bunker door.  At the top of the stairs, he turned and climbed up toward the towering brick walls of the bunker.  The safety railing meant to protect people from falling into the stairwell below had two concrete ledges behind it, evidences of the structural supports for the bunker’s entrance.  The lower ledge was just wide enough to allow someone to sit down with their legs hanging over the stairwell.  Dean spread the blanket there, laying out the pillows for cushions.  Satisfied with his work, he went in to take out everything he’d need for dinner before going to check on Cas.  Cas had his door cracked open, and Dean knocked on the door frame.

“Come in,” Cas said.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Dean asked.  “You have enough hangers?”

“Yes.  Everything’s fine,” Cas said.

“Cool.  You wanna help me with dinner?” Dean asked.

“I’ve never cooked before,” Cas said.

“That’s okay,” Dean said.  “I’ll show you.”

…

Cas looked at the items laid out on the counter, and asked, “What are we making?”

“Burgers and fries.  And apple cobbler,” Dean said.  “You’re gonna get to witness a well-guarded Winchester secret.”

Cas shot Dean a skeptical look.  “Oh, really?”

“Yep.  The recipe for my French fry seasoning.  If it was anyone but you, I’d have to kill ‘em,” Dean said.

“I’m honored,” Cas said.

Dean looked at him, surprised.  “That was sarcasm, Cas,” Dean said.

“Yes,” Cas said, laughing.  “But I am happy to share this with you.”

“I’m happy you’re happy,” Dean said, reaching for the potato slicer he’d picked up at the flea market next to the farmer’s market Sam had found just outside Lebanon.  “Let’s get busy.  Would you slice the tomatoes?”

Cas nodded, and Dean slid the cutting board over to him.

“What is that?” Cas asked.

“Watch,” Dean said, lifting up the potato slicer’s lever and putting a potato in place.

Evenly cut French fries emerged as Dean pressed the lever down.

“That’s clever,” Cas said.

“Totally worth two bucks,” Dean said.

Dean was pleased with how well he and Cas worked together.  They moved around each other easily and never got snippy with one another, which Dean had to admit happened sometimes with Sam.  Dean was particular about his kitchen and cooking practices.  Having a willing, pliable helper cut preparation time in half, and soon a freaking spectacular, in Dean’s venerable opinion, meal was ready.  Dean arranged a plate for each of them.

“I’m gonna take this to Sam, but I want you to wait here,” Dean said.

“Why?” Cas asked.  “Aren’t we eating together?”

“That’s a surprise,” Dean said.  “We’re eating together but not with Sam.”

When Dean returned, he grabbed his food and grinned at Cas.  “Come on,” he said.

Cas followed without question.  The quiet curiosity in his eyes made Dean’s smile widen. Cas paused when he saw the blanket.

“This is a date, isn’t it?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, if you’d like it to be,” Dean said.

“Yes, I’d like that,” Cas said.

They didn’t talk much as they ate, content to sit with their shoulders brushing. When Cas finished, he set his plate on the concrete ledge behind their backs and rested his forearms on the bar of the guardrail.

“This is nice,” Cas said.

“It’s not over yet,” Dean said before eating the last of his fries.

“Oh?” Cas said.

“Movie night,” Dean said.  “We’re gonna start your real human education.”

“By watching movies?” Cas asked.

“You bet.  How many times have you said ‘I don’t understand that reference’ to me?  Pop culture is crucial,” Dean said.

…

Dean walked carefully toward the couch, mindful of the three hot chocolates balanced on one of the drink trays he’d cleared of an empty whiskey decanter and dusty tumblers.  Sam was trying to catch popcorn in his mouth, missing half as much as he made it.  One piece of popcorn went in a promising trajectory but landed on the side of Sam’s nose, sticking there and not moving even when Sam attempted to dislodge it by wiggling his face.  Cas laughed at him.  Sam grinned as he sat up properly, plucking the popcorn off his face, and Dean couldn’t fight smiling too, his heart soaring with affection for his two favorite dorks.

Sam caught sight of Dean first, shifting in his seat and making grabby hands toward the mugs Dean carried.

“Oh, fancy,” Sam said as he lifted up one of the mugs of hot chocolate with whipped cream on top adorned with a drizzle of chocolate syrup and a cinnamon stick.

“Ready?” Dean asked.

He settled next to Cas on the couch as the introduction to _The Fellowship of the Ring_ started to play.  Cas made it to Lothlorien before his eyes started to droop.  The deeper he fell into slumber the farther his body canted toward Dean’s heat.  By the time Galadriel started bestowing her parting gifts on the fellowship, Cas’s head had fallen from Dean’s shoulder into his lap.  Dean missed the majority of the battle at the Falls of Rauros for watching Cas’s serene countenance in slumber as he trailed his fingers through Cas’s hair.

Across from them, Sam’s attention had also drifted away from the movie.  Dean could feel his eyes as Sam watched them, and he wondered what Sam was thinking.  As the credits rolled, Sam got up to put the DVD away and shut off the TV.  When he turned around, Dean hadn’t moved.  Sam held the remote absently, concentrating on Dean and Cas more than what he was doing.

“What’s on your mind, Sam?” Dean asked quietly.

“He makes you really happy,” Sam said.  “I didn’t get it before.  I mean, I suspected there was something there, but I didn’t know it was like this for you.”

“Like what?” Dean asked.

“You love him,” Sam said.

“Yeah, I do,” Dean said.

“But it’s not just that.  You loved Cassie and Patrick and Li—” Sam stopped himself short.  “What I mean to say is that Cas is different,” he continued.

“Cas is one of a kind,” Dean said.  “Where are you going with this?”

“I dunno,” Sam said.  “I’m just happy for you, I guess.  You deserve this.”

Dean ducked his head.  “Thanks, Sam.”

“I’ll see you guys in the morning,” Sam said.

“Night, Sammy,” Dean said.

As Sam turned into the hallway for his room, Dean shook Cas’s shoulder.  Cas stretched, blinking owlishly up at Dean.

“Oh, no.  I missed it,” Cas said, his voice raspy with sleep.

“Don’t worry about it.  We can watch the rest any time,” Dean said.  “You wanna go to bed?”

“Do you want to go to bed?” Cas asked.

“It’ll be more comfortable than staying here,” Dean said.

“I dunno,” Cas said, closing his eyes with a contented sigh.  “This is pretty nice.”

“Your neck’s not gonna agree with you in the morning,” Dean said.

“If you insist,” Cas said as he sat up.

“Hey, the bed’s got memory foam and me.  What’s not to like?” Dean asked.

“You make a compelling argument,” Cas said.  “Let’s go before I fall asleep on you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any mistakes are my own. If you notice anything amiss or just want to make a comment, feedback is always welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The park on the outskirts of Lebanon was big. A long, winding trail edged with trees for walkers and bikers stretched to two gathering areas. On one end, there was a playground with picnic tables dotted along the sidewalk next to an ornamental fountain and gardens. A baseball diamond and a soccer field bookended the opposite end of the trail. The side with the playground was surrounded by a flat expanse of field, which was where Dean intended to take Cas and his kite. They parked across from the fountain and headed across the field.
> 
> “So, how do we do this?” Cas asked.
> 
> “Unwind some of the string,” Dean said, “and then run.”
> 
> Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean. “You’re coming with me, right?” he asked.
> 
> “Of course,” Dean said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: mentions of drowning, discussion of past Dean/Lisa  
> Sexual content: blow jobs, fingering, dirty talk
> 
> The name Seana is pronounced Shay-na the same way Seamus is Shay-mus.

Dean took the seat opposite Cas at one the tables in the library.  “Hey, Cas.  You got any plans for today?” he asked.

Cas sat up a little straighter as he sped up his reading rate to find a stopping place, his hand automatically seeking the bookmark he’d placed next to his coffee.  When Cas looked up at Dean, he had his elbows on the table with his chin propped up on one hand, gazing at Cas attentively.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” Cas said.  “Do you have something in mind?”

“I might,” Dean said, leaning back.  His mouth barely moved, but his eyes shone with a smile.

“What are you up to?” Cas asked.

“I was wondering if you might want to go on a date with me,” Dean said.

Cas closed his book and sat up quickly, a smile lighting his face.  “I would love to go on a date with you,” Cas said.  “Where are we going?”

“The park,” Dean said.  “I was thinking we could try out that kite of yours.  And there’s usually an ice cream cart parked near the picnic tables.”

“That sounds nice,” Cas said.  “Let me go get my shoes.”

“Awesome,” Dean said, standing and planting a kiss on Cas’s forehead.  “Meet me at the Impala?”

“Yeah, be there in a minute.”

…

The park on the outskirts of Lebanon was big.  A long, winding trail edged with trees for walkers and bikers stretched to two gathering areas.  On one end, there was a playground with picnic tables dotted along the sidewalk next to an ornamental fountain and gardens.  A baseball diamond and a soccer field bookended the opposite end of the trail.  The side with the playground was surrounded by a flat expanse of field, which was where Dean intended to take Cas and his kite.  They parked across from the fountain and headed across the field.

“So, how do we do this?” Cas asked.

“Unwind some of the string,” Dean said, “and then run.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean.  “You’re coming with me, right?” he asked.

“Of course,” Dean said.  “It feels like the wind is coming from this way.  You hold the spool, and I’ll try to launch it.”

“Okay,” Cas agreed, loosening more of the kite string before passing Dean the body of the phoenix.

“When the wind takes it, we’ll have to let out the string fast,” Dean said.  “Ready?”

Cas nodded.

“On the count of the three, okay?” Dean said.  “One.  Two.  Three.”

They started running in tandem.  The kite lifted behind Dean, rising into the air almost immediately, and he let go of it, huffs of delighted laughter spilling from his lips.

“It’s going!  It’s going! Let out the line,” Dean said, continuing to run beside Cas.

Cas’s fingers were quick enough not to tug back against the kite’s momentum, and soon enough it soared above their heads.  He turned to walk backwards as Dean was already, watching the kite drift on the breeze.  The streamers meant to represent the phoenix’s tail feathers attached to the back of the kite spun merrily, flashing orange, red, and yellow with each rotation.

“What do you think?” Dean asked.

When Cas looked over at Dean, he was beaming.  “It’s beautiful, Dean,” Cas said.  “Thank you.”

Dean snagged Cas’s free hand and threaded their fingers together.  For a while they simply gazed upwards together, neither feeling the need for conversation.

“Heaven works differently for humans and angels,” Cas began thoughtfully.  “Human souls alter the fabric of heaven close to them to fit the perceptions that they desire.  Angels can exist anywhere in heaven, but it doesn’t adapt to them, which means a lot of the time angels exist on the edges of human heavens.  Anyway, there was one heaven I particularly enjoyed.  It belongs to an autistic man spending an eternal Tuesday afternoon flying a kite in a garden.  I can see why he enjoyed doing this.  It’s peaceful.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Dean said.

The wind died down about fifteen minutes later, and the kite coasted toward the ground.  Dean ran underneath it, plucking the kite from the air before it could meet a tragic end with a crash landing.  He held the kite string tight as Cas wound it back up.

“Is that the ice cream you promised me?” Cas asked, gesturing back toward the fountain and picnic tables when he’d met Dean at the other end of the kite.

“Yeah,” Dean said.  “Why don’t you go check out the list of flavors while I run this back to the trunk?”

…

Dean and Cas started down the trail through the park with packed waffle cones in their hands.  Cas had decided on trying Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough and Dean got his usual Pecan Pralines and Cream.  Dean finished his ice cream first, deposited his napkin in the next trashcan they passed, and took Cas’s hand in his again.  One of the side paths leading to secluded benches and tables meandered into a wooden deck, the paneling turned grey with age.  Benches, built into the railing, lined each side of the deck, making it an ideal hangout for birdwatchers.  Dean tugged Cas off the main sidewalk when he spotted it.  Cas had finished his ice cream cone by then too, and he threw his tightly folded napkin into the bin next to the opening in the railing.  Dean led him to the convergence of one corner of the deck to sit down, ensuring that their knees would brush.

“This isn’t something I want to talk about, but I think I need to,” Dean said.

Cas squeezed his hand reassuringly.  “What is it, Dean?” he asked.

Dean kicked at a tiny fallen acorn stuck in a crack in the deck as he began to talk.

“When I was going to say yes to Michael, I went to see Lisa.  I told her that whenever I imagined myself happy it was with her.  I shouldn’t have done that.  For a lot of reasons.  Sam wouldn’t have made me promise to give up hunting, she didn’t deserve that weight, and mostly, it wasn’t really true.  Being with her was more of an idea than anything.  I cared about her, but I wasn’t happy.  I thought about the whole house with a white picket fence and kids thing sometimes because hunters romanticize it, and the reality couldn’t really live up to the expectations.  To tell the truth, I think what I thought about it came more from missing my mom than wanting to get hitched and be a dad.  Whenever I can remember being really happy, it’s with Sam, travelling, doing what we do.  And with you after God brought you back the first time.  Shit was tough then, and you made it better, easier.  I don’t think you know what it meant to me that you stuck with us back then.  And I think, even then, I felt things for you that were out of the ordinary for me.  So, when I went to Lisa, I was running.  From the apocalypse, from myself, from everything.  I said I wanted those things because they’re the things I thought I should want, but that’s never who I really was.”

Dean let out a long breath and wiped his palms against his knees.  “I do like kids though even though it’s not realistic for me to have that.  I’m still terrified that Ben is really mine.”

“If he was, Michael would have targeted him as a vessel,” Cas said gently.

“That’s a good point.” Dean said.

Cas was quiet for a moment.  “I was going to ask you for help when you were with her.  About Raphael.  I went to you, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  You had some measure of peace, and I didn’t want to drag you into another mess after everything.  I was watching you rake leaves when Crowley came to me with his plan about the Purgatory souls.”

“Cas.”

Cas gave him a shaky smile.  “It all seems so foolish now, doesn’t it?”

Dean sighed.  “We’re a pair of fools,” he agreed.

“There’s something else you should know,” Cas said.  “I’m sorry that I hid my intentions in Purgatory.  I wanted you to be safe, but after Naomi got her hooks in me, that was impossible.  What happened in the crypt—you already know she ordered me to do it, but it wasn’t that simple.  Her reprogramming required her to strip me down to my factory settings so that I would be cold, brutal, and mindless again.  To do that, she had me practice killing you over and over again.  I killed you a thousand different ways, at least, before she was satisfied and sent me after the tablet.  I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”

“Fuck, Cas.  Fuck.  A thousand times and you still resisted her?” Dean asked.

“Her facsimiles of you paled in comparison to the real thing,” Cas said.

“So, what did break the connection?  You dropped your blade before you touched the tablet,” Dean said.

“You did,” Cas said.  “I could see your soul, and your faith that I wasn’t myself helped me resist her.  She told me I had to pick the angels or you.  That’s when I dropped my blade.  If I had killed you, Dean…”

“Hey, you didn’t. I forgave you for that a long time ago, Cas,” Dean said.

Cas eyes were shiny with unshed tears.  “I know,” Cas said.

“I probably won’t say this as much as I should, but I need you to know it.  I love you, Castiel,” Dean said.

“Dean,” Cas said, his throat constricting around the name.  He took Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him tenderly.  “I love you, Dean Winchester, as I have never loved anything.”

Dean scooted closer to Cas and wrapped his arm around Cas’s shoulders.  He didn’t know how long they sat in that verdant haven with only the sounds of rustling tree branches and birds to disturb the quiet.  He had no desire to count the minutes.  When they did get up to go back to the car, they resumed their game of 20 Questions, walking hand in hand once more.  

…

As Dean and Cas descended the staircase into the bunker, they saw Sam seated in front of his laptop, the remnants of the salad he’d had for lunch sitting next to him.

“Hey, guys,” Sam said.  “So, I was checking news sites for angel and demon activity, and get this, there have been three disappearances near Lake Michigan.  All men between twenty and forty-five.  Conventionally attractive, well-to-do types.  Report says they were all seen with a young, blonde woman at the same restaurant before they vanished.  Sounds like our kind of thing.”

“You wanna check it out?” Dean asked.

“We could call somebody else to check it out,” Sam said.

“Or we could check it out,” Dean said.  “What do you think, Cas?  Do you feel up for a hunt?”

“I do need to get used to doing things the human way,” Cas said.

They were packed and on the road to Chicago within the hour, stopping only to refill the Impala’s gas tank and to get food from a diner off the highway before finding a hotel for the night in Grinnell, Iowa.

…

By noon the next day, they were in Chicago dressed as journalists to poke around the restaurant for information on the missing men.  The servers, bartenders, and frequent customers all might have been present while the victims were in contact with the link in the cases, the woman who was seen with each of them.  With luck, they might run into the woman herself since she had yet to break pattern with her hunting ground.

Sam and Cas grabbed a table, questioning their server under the pretense of small talk, as Dean went to strike up a conversation with the bartender.  Fifteen minutes later, they had discovered two of the waitresses had each worked a shift when one of the victims had met with the mysterious woman, but neither of them had noticed anything out of the ordinary in the behavior of either of the men and neither could remember anything specific about the woman except for the color of her hair.  Sam was ready to regroup to discuss a new strategy when Cas inclined his head toward a booth to the left of their table.

“There,” Cas said.  “I’m not sure how I can still tell, but she isn’t human.”

Sam spotted a wispy-haired blonde woman speaking to man opposite her.  She was leaning over the table and gesturing animatedly.

“Good eye, Cas,” Sam said.  “I’m gonna see if I can hear what they’re talking about.”

Sam got up and went to the counter displaying extra napkins and condiments near the couple’s table, pretending to rifle through ketchup packets and Splenda as he listened.

“I’ve got a meeting across town in a few,” the man said, “but I would love to meet you for dinner later tonight.  Maybe we can go to the lake afterward.  Does 7:30 sound alright to you?”

“That’s perfect,” the woman said.  “I’ll see you then.”

The man passed Sam on his way to the door, but the woman remained in her seat.  Sam walked back over to Cas, a few napkins in his hand.

“They have a meeting later,” Sam said, quietly.  “Sounds like her lure.  Looks like she also stakes this place out during the day to target multiple victims.”

“You get Dean,” Cas said.  “I want to talk to her.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Sam said.

“I just want to see if I can figure out what she is.  I can pretend to be interested in her if it becomes necessary,” Cas said.

“Okay, give it a shot,” Sam said.

Sam was already across the room, tapping Dean on the shoulder to let him know to wrap up his fake interview with the bartender as Cas pushed in his chair and turned to the woman.  Cas slipped into the booth across from her and saw Sam heading back toward him.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked.

“I was wondering if you’re a local because I could use some advice,” Cas said.

“I know my way around,” the woman responded.

Her body language was closed off, and Castiel could tell it made her uncomfortable to be the one approached instead of the other way around.

“It’s just that the coffee here leaves a little to be desired.  Could you recommend a place for a better cup in the city?” Cas asked.

“There’s this joint on the corner two blocks from here that’s good,” she said.  “I need to get going.  Excuse me.”

“Just one more thing,” Cas said.

As the woman fastened the clasp on her bag, her eyes flashed an ethereal violet and her pupils narrowed to vertical slits.  Sam was standing next to Cas now.          

“I really don’t have the time—” she began.

“She’s a Sidhe of the fae races,” Cas said, cutting her off.

“Smart boy,” she said, looking toward the bar.  “I think your pal will be next on my list if you don’t leave me be.”

She slid out of the booth and started toward Dean who was still talking to the bartender.  Sam’s face scrunched with concern.  Castiel grabbed the Sidhe’s arm, halting her motion.

“You will have no power there,” Castiel said.

“Watch me,” the Sidhe said.

“Go ahead,” Cas said.  “You will fail.”

“Why are you so confident?” she asked.  Her eyes screwed up with irritation.

“There are forces in the universe more powerful than magic,” Cas said.

“Like what?” the Sidhe asked.

“Love,” Cas said.  “You cannot enchant a man who has found true love.”

“You’re right, but I highly doubt a ladies’ man like him has found true love,” she said.

“He has,” Cas said.  “You are not of this realm.  Use your sight.  Look between he and I, and tell me what you see.”

The Sidhe squinted, concentrating.  Her eyebrows rose.  “You are not human, not completely,” she said.

“No, I’m not,” Cas said.  “What else do you see?”

“There is a thread binding you to the human.  It is blue as the lakes of my home.  His soul and your…essence are vibrating at the same frequency.  It’s you he loves.”

“And his love is true,” Cas said.

“Yes,” the Sidhe agreed.  “What are you?”

“That is a question I will answer if you answer mine,” Cas said.  “Why have you taken these men?  Are they still alive?”

“Why should I talk to you?  You’re hunters, aren’t you?  Your kind always shoots first,” she said.

“We’re asking you questions, and we haven’t shot yet,” Sam said.  “Talk to us.”

The Sidhe visibly sagged.  “I am not doing this of my own will,” she said.  “I have been enslaved by a demon.”

“You should have led with that,” Sam said.  “Answer his questions.”

“I lured the men to the water so that the demon could offer to rescue them in trade for their souls.  Where they go after accepting the deal, I do not know.  I use a glamour to avoid being noticed or recalled, but the demon demands more and more souls, making it harder to maintain,” she said.

“Can you lead us to the demon that trapped you?” Sam asked.  “We can try to set you free and kill the demon.”

“Killing the demon will set me free,” the Sidhe said.  “You can follow me tonight.  The demon will come if it thinks I have a new soul.”

“Yeah, we can do that,” Sam said.  “In the meantime, you’re coming with us.”

Dean had stepped away from the bar and was watching the conversation curiously.  Sam gestured him over.

“Caught a break?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said.  “We’ll fill you in in the car.”

…

“I answered your questions as agreed,” the Sidhe said.  “What are you?”

Cas glanced sideways at her and met Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror.  Dean gave a tiny shrug as if to say, It’s up to you.

“I’m a fallen angel,” Cas said.

“I thought your kind did not remember what they used to be after making that choice,” the Sidhe said.

“There is more than one way to fall,” Cas said.  “May I ask your name?”

“Seana,” she said.

“I’m Castiel.  These are the Winchesters, Sam and Dean.  There are some more questions we need to ask you about tonight.”

“You want to know if the man from the restaurant will need to be in danger for the demon to come,” Seana said.  “The answer is yes, but once a person is under my enchantment, I am in control of the balance of their life.  I understand that you won’t trust me to protect him.  If you feel that he needs rescuing, either of you that are immune to me would be able to save him from drowning.  I can only direct the water deliberately in concentrated bursts, so I do not think I could harm more than one person at once.”

“Wait, what?  Immune?” Dean asked.

“You and I would not be affected by a Sidhe’s spell because of our relationship,” Cas said.

“Why?  Am I suddenly impervious to the wiles of women because I have feelings for a dude?” Dean asked.

Seana laughed, and the sound was like the tinkling of bells.   

“It doesn’t work quite like that,” she said.  “I can only enchant unattached people attracted to my form or those who are not faithful to their partners.  Those whose feelings are genuine are in no danger from me.”

“Oh, huh,” Dean said.  “You’d be useful for those people that go on Cheaters.”

“I was often summoned for that purpose in the past when humans still believed in fae folk and our realms were not so removed from one another,” Seana said.

“Ruthless,” Dean said.

“Some of them, yes,” Seana agreed.

…

The game plan for the hunt was simple.  Sam and Cas would watch for the demon while Dean ensured the safety of the man unwittingly being used for bait.  Dean had driven Seana back to the restaurant to meet him.  Dean would wait to follow them to the lake, updating Sam and Cas who were already in position, on their ETA.

The demon appeared by the shore as Seana lead the man into the water and stood, smirking, as he waited for the man to become desperate enough to listen to talk about trading his soul for his life.  Cas pointed to him and Sam crept forward, drawing the Kurdish knife out of his coat to plunge it between his ribs.  In the water, Seana pushed the sputtering man toward Dean so he could drag him back to shore.  Sam hardly blinked before Seana was next to him, her aquatic velocity boggling the mind.

“I will dispose of the demon,” Seana said.

She had already disappeared when Sam turned to run over to Dean, arriving seconds after Cas.

“Hey, man,” Dean said, his voice low and soothing, “you’re okay.  You musta fell in somehow.”

“The girl?  Where’s the girl I was with?” the man asked.

“There wasn’t a girl,” Dean said.  “Hey, buddy, what’s your name?”

“Leon,” he said.

“Is there someplace we can give you a ride to, Leon?” Sam asked.

“I just live a couple blocks over,” Leon said.  “I can walk.”

“Are you certain you feel alright?” Cas asked.

“I think I’m gonna be coughing for a while, and I don’t remember how I got here,” Leon said.  He sat up, scooting away from the three of them to stand.  “But I’m alright.”

He turned to Dean and offered his hand.  “Thanks, man,” he said.

“Uh, yeah.  No problem,” Dean said, sheepish in response to his gratitude.

Leon waved as he stepped back onto the sidewalk, and the three of them returned the gesture briefly.

“That was surprisingly easy,” Sam said.

“I wonder if we’ll see Seana again,” Dean said.

“If you turn around, you might,” Seana said. "I have brought you gifts in thanks for my freedom."

Seana held her hand open before her.  In her palm lay two small shells.  She handed a rusty red and cream-colored Lion’s Paw to Sam.

“It holds a protection charm effective whenever you have it on your person,” she said.  To Dean and Cas she held out the other shell, a black and white conch.  “This is a blessing for your union.  Put it in a shared space, preferably above your bed.”

Cas held out his hand to accept Seana’s offering.  “Thank you,” he said.  “May your rivers be swift, your seas calm, and your lakes deep.”

Seana looked surprised and a smile crept across her face.

“May your guiding star shine bright, your pathways be clear, and the winds blow in your favor.  I have not heard those words on Earth for centuries,” she said.  “Thank you, Castiel.  We are well met.  If we should see one another again, I would like to hear your story.”

“I would be glad to tell it,” Cas said.

“Sam.  Dean.  You have shown me the better side of your profession.  We too are well met,” Seana said.

“We’re glad we could work with you,” Sam said.

“I am eager to return home,” Seana said.  “So, I will say farewell.”

“Travel safe,” Dean said, flicking his fingers out in salute.

“You as well,” Seana called over her shoulder before diving into the water and disappearing from sight.

“So,” Dean said, walking back toward the sidewalk.  “Who’s up for celebratory drinks?”

“I’m game,” Sam said.

Cas shrugged.  “I don’t mind,” he said.

...

A tall redhead in a business suit and dangerous heels had picked up Sam and taken him to her place about ten minutes ago.  The bar was quiet as bars go.  Most of the patrons interested in drink sat on the high stools nearest the bartender, a smattering of couples and groups sat in the booths, and one couple, in their mid-twenties, swayed on the dance floor, having queued up a block of Johnny Cash songs on the jukebox tucked in the corner.  The pair of pool tables were free.

Dean finished his beer and nudged Cas’s foot under the table.  “Hey, you wanna play?” he asked, tilting his head toward the pool tables.

“I don’t know how,” Cas said.

“I’ll teach you.”

Cas nodded, set down his drink, and followed Dean to the table closest to their booth.  Dean explained the basics of the game as he prepared their pool cues and handed one to Cas.  “You wanna be stripes or solids?”

“Stripes,” Cas said.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Dean broke the rack but didn’t sink any balls during his turn.  Cas stood still, his eyes flicking between the positions of the balls, before lining up his first shot.  He made it.  He shifted to take aim again and sunk his second ball as well.  In the space of a few minutes, Cas had pocketed all seven of the striped balls and now focused his attention on the eight ball.  Dean watched him raptly, his mouth slack with anticipation and a little surprise.  Cas struck the cue ball, and it glanced off the eight ball, setting it into a smooth roll that landed it directly in the pocket.

Cas straightened up and looked at Dean.  Dean had let his pool cue fall against his shoulder as he watched, and he clapped once before breaking out into a grin.  “I’ll be damned.  Cas, you’re a natural.”

Cas looked down, pleased with himself.

“Do you think you could do it again?”

“It’s only angles, mathematics.  It wasn’t difficult.”

“Okay then, hot stuff.  Show me what you’ve got,” Dean said as he re-racked the balls.  “You break this time.”

Cas sent the balls scattering across the table and began to study their layout.

“Wait a second,” Dean said.  “There’s another way to hold the cue.  Let me show you, so you can see which you like better.”

Instead of showing Cas a demonstration with his own hands, Dean set his cue aside and went behind Castiel, pressing against his back and laying his hands on top of Cas’s.  He moved Cas’s fingers, whispering into his ear, “You put your hand like this and just let the stick glide through.”  Dean pulled back so his lips grazed along Cas’s neck.  “Do you got it?”

“I think this qualifies as cheating,” Cas breathed.

“Mmm,” Dean said, pressing his hips more firmly against Cas’s ass.  “I didn’t think I’d have such stiff competition.”

“Is that a flirtation?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, Cas.  That’s a flirtation.”

Cas turned in Dean’s arms to search his face.  When Cas let his eyes settle on Dean’s, Dean leaned in to kiss him.  Cas met him, opening his lips in welcome, and savored the fleeting caress of Dean’s tongue.

“Why don’t we play for a wager?” Dean suggested.

“What would we set as stakes?” Cas asked.

“I was thinking blows jobs, maybe,” Dean said, speaking in whisper next to Cas’s ear.  “Winner gets head first.  What do you think?”

“I think you’re about to lose,” Cas said.

…

Dean had put up a good fight, but Cas beat him fair and square, not that Dean intended to complain about that in any way.  He couldn’t remember a time he’d been more thrilled that Sammy was gone getting laid, leaving the hotel room totally free.  He knew he’d driven too fast on the way back from the bar, Cas’s hand on his thigh a promise.

Almost as soon as Dean unlocked the door, he pulled it closed again behind them, boxing Cas in with his arms.  Anticipation made their touches aggressive.  Dean drew away from Cas’s lips to leave a trail of kisses down his jaw, darting out his tongue to lave against Cas’s pulse point as his fingers found the hem of Cas’s shirt and pulled it over his head.  He took a moment to gaze into Cas’s lust blown eyes, the dim light darkening his irises further, before he felt Cas’s hand on the back of his neck pulling him in for another kiss.  Cas’s other hand crept under Dean’s shirt, tracing the length of his spine and the contours of his muscles.

“This has to go,” Cas said, bunching the sides of Dean’s shirt in his hands.

“Yeah?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Cas said.

Their faces were close enough that they could feel one another smiling.  Cas brought Dean’s shirt up higher, giving him no other option but to raise his arms and let Cas strip it off him.

“So do these,” Dean said, plucking open the button on Cas’s jeans.  

Dean snaked Cas’s pants down and followed their descent to the floor until he was on his knees.

“Cas,” Dean said, drawing out the end sound with a low moan.

He kissed the protrusion of Cas’s hipbone and rested his forehead against Cas’s stomach, his fingers teasing the edge of Cas’s boxers.

“You can take your time, Dean,” Cas said.  “We’re allowed to do that.”

“I want this so bad, you have no idea,” Dean said.  “This is the first thing I ever thought about doing with you when we first met.”

“You thought about this when we first met?” Cas asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said.  “Yeah, I did.  I couldn’t help myself.  Hopefully it’s not a sin to fantasize about an angel because fucking shit, Cas.  You’re hot when you’re threatening.”

Cas laughed.  “I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he said.  “Come here.”

Dean stood obligingly.  Cas circled his fingers around Dean’s wrist and tugged until Dean pressed flush against him.  He kissed Dean slowly, soothing his hands along Dean’s sides.  Dean grazed his hands up from Cas’s hips, along his stomach, and over his pectorals, brushing his thumbs out to tease Cas’s areolae.  Cas threw his head back against the door.

“You like that?” Dean asked, mouthing at the corner of Cas’s jaw.

“Yes,” Cas breathed.

Dean hummed thoughtfully as he dipped his head to kiss Cas’s collarbones, travelling in a Z-shape to flick his tongue across the hardened peaks of Cas’s nipples.  When Dean straightened back up, Cas slid his hands around Dean’s hips, dipping underneath his boxers and digging his fingers into the flesh of Dean’s ass.

Dean groaned into the juncture of Cas’s neck and rolled their hips together.

“Shit,” Dean said, savoring the heat of Cas’s skin so near to his for another moment before taking a step back.  The only remaining point of contact between them was Dean’s fingers around Cas’s wrist.  “I’m getting sidetracked.  Come on.”

Dean led the way into the room, veering away from the bed and heading for the deep, worn leather sofa in front of the television.  With the slight pressure from Dean’s index finger, Castiel flopped onto the couch.  Dean pulled him to the edge of the cushion by the hips, making Cas slouch dramatically, and proceeded to peel Castiel’s boxers off, discard them on the floor, and drop his remaining clothes on top of them.

“Here,” Dean said, grabbing one of the oversized throw pillows and helping Cas to position it to support his back.

Once Cas seemed comfortable, Dean pushed Cas’s legs apart so that he could settle between them and planted a kiss on Cas’s right knee, trailing his mouth inward as if dotting the terrain on a map.  He stopped when his nose nuzzled Cas’s testicles and switched to the opposite thigh.  The second time Dean found himself cozy with Cas’s balls, he turned his face to meet the fleshy swells, and sucked each one in turn into his mouth.

Cas’s gasp and the hand he laid gingerly on the back of Dean’s neck was reward and encouragement in one.  Dean made a loose fist around Cas’s cock.  He let his gaze linger on the flushed tip, leaking and peaking out of Cas’s foreskin.  As Dean watched, a bead of precome pushed out of Cas’s slit and hung there, suspended, for a moment, against gravity.  Dean licked it up before it could fall.  He placed a firm, wet kiss on Cas’s frenulum and let his lips part, allowing Castiel inside his mouth.  Cas’s fingers dug slightly into Dean’s scalp.  At first, Dean merely guided Castiel’s cock into his mouth with no pressure but the slide of his tongue on the underside of Cas’s shaft, but when Dean felt the prickly tickle of Cas’s pubic hair at the tip of his nose, his closed his lips around Cas’s base suddenly and sucked hard.  Cas cried out.  Dean could feel the tension in Cas’s thighs as he resisted thrusting his hips, and he hummed with pride.

“Dean, fuck,” Cas said.  “Please.”

Cas clutched the couch cushion beside his leg, struggling for purchase.  Dean ran one palm up Cas’s calf and squeezed his thigh reassuringly.  He pulled off Cas’s cock, never relenting the suction he had finally applied.  He found a rhythm with ease but never allowed it become predictable, changing pace whenever Castiel was able to uncurl his toes and sag back into the couch.  

Cas wasn’t loud, but he was unrestrained.  Soft sounds of pleasure and praise fell from his lips without hesitation.  Dean heard strings of Enochian among other languages.  The hand Cas had rested on Dean’s head caressed down his neck and shoulders, and his free hand travelled between scratching at the fabric of the couch, grasping at his own hair, meeting Dean’s hand whenever he placed it on Cas’s thigh, and touching his thumb to the corner of Dean’s mouth, feeling the place where his flesh disappeared into Dean.  Some of the time, Cas would squeeze his eyes shut and let his head fall back on the couch, but the rest of the time, Cas would keep his head up, looking straight into Dean’s eyes, focused and simmering.  

Dean kept his hands busy.  If he didn’t have one hand on Cas’s cock with the other twined in Cas’s fingers, he would occupy himself with leaving teasing touches on Cas’s legs, hips, and chest or rolling his fingers under Cas’s balls and pressing against his perineum.  He barely thought of jerking himself off, and he still felt his own arousal climbing toward the heights of orgasm from Castiel’s intensity alone.

Dean knew that Castiel was close.  The grip Cas had on the back of Dean’s neck tightened and slackened unconsciously, Cas’s thigh muscles felt tense beneath Dean’s hand, and Cas’s breathing had become shallow and fast.

“Dean,” Cas said on a pleasured exhalation.

Cas brought his head up again and lifted his fingers to Dean’s face, stroking along the line of each cheekbone.  The delicate touch made Dean’s eyelashes flutter.

“You’re so beautiful, Dean,” Cas said.

Dean had often loathed it when people called him that word, but here on his knees for Cas, he enjoyed the idea of being beautiful.  It made him want to see his own lips stretched and red around Cas’s cock, the flush of arousal that he could feel staining his cheeks, which would make his freckles stand out on his skin, and the eagerness that must be in his expression.  He made a mental note to search for hotels with large mirrors available even as he moaned around the base of Cas’s cock.

“You’re gonna make me come,” Cas said, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.  “I’m so close.  I can feel everything inside me building, blazing, like a star going nova.  That’s amazing, Dean.  My grace is gone, but I feel cosmic.”

If Dean had been jerking himself off, he felt certain he would have come from hearing those words.  He took all of Cas’s length in his mouth and made the muscles of his throat constrict around the head of Cas’s dick.  Cas’s hands snapped to Dean’s shoulders, holding on for dear life.

“Dean, I’m—” Cas said, but he couldn’t complete the thought before orgasm took him.

Dean drew back so that he could catch the taste of Cas’s come on his tongue as he swallowed, watching Cas’s eyelids waver as he fought the urge to close them and bliss erase all else on his features.  Dean had his head lying on Cas’s thigh as he blinked his eyes open again, and Cas tugged at his arm.

“Come here,” Cas said, urging Dean up.

Dean stood, stretched, and straddled Cas’s lap.

“I love you,” Cas said.  He kissed Dean’s forehead, his cheeks, his lips.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, Cas,” Dean said.

Cas wrapped his arms securely around Dean’s back and lifted him, switching their positions.

“Holy shit,” Dean breathed.  He looked up at Cas, wide-eyed.

“Dean?” Cas asked.

“I’ve never been with anybody who could pick me up,” Dean said.

“Is that bad?” Cas asked.

“No,” Dean said.  “I, uh.  I think we can add that to the list of things about you that make me hot.”

Cas grinned, kissed Dean quick and wet, and kneeled.

"I don't think this is going to last long," Dean said.

Cas shrugged one shoulder.  He sucked at the skin between Dean's belly button and his happy trail as he teased his fingers along the insides of Dean's thighs. Dean had expected Cas might hesitate with nerves. Cas didn’t even pause, grasping Dean at the root with his right hand, a pressure that could keep him from coming, pressing his left thumb firmly against Dean's perineum, and closing his lips around the head of Dean's cock. As Cas moved his hand to rub slow circles behind Dean's balls, his fingers caught at Dean's rim. Dean keened and spread his legs wider.

"May I touch you?" Cas asked.

Dean had to take a calming breath before saying, "Yes."

Cas changed the course of his fingers, drawing lower and ghosting over Dean’s hole before picking up the circular motion again.  Dean watched Cas’s rapt gaze, and bit his bottom lip.  Cas’s grip at the base of Dean’s dick was the only thing staving off his orgasm.

"Do you wanna finger me?" Dean asked, his voice thick and rough.

Cas straightened his back and squared his shoulders, his eyes locking with Dean’s again.

“Would you like that?” Cas asked.

Dean huffed.  “Understatement,” he said.

“Do you have lubrication?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, in my duffle.  Inside pocket,” Dean said.

As Cas crossed the room, Dean tried his hardest to think unsexy thoughts to help himself calm down.  Cas flicked the cap of the lube bottle open as he sat in front of Dean again, cross-legged.He reached across Dean to grab the other throw pillow.

“Lift up,” Cas said.

Dean raised his lower body off the couch, allowing Cas to put the pillow under his hips.

“Ready?” Cas asked.

“Fuck yeah,” Dean said, inching closer to the edge of the couch so he could spread his legs wider.

Cas pressed the tip of a lube-slick finger to Dean’s entrance without breaking eye contact.

“Do you do this to yourself, Dean?” Cas asked

Dean felt every centimeter as the blush on his cheeks spread to his chest.  “Yes,” he admitted through clenched teeth.

Cas smiled and kissed the cap of Dean’s knee.  “I can tell,” he said, starting to move the finger he already had buried inside Dean.  “You open so well for me.”

Dean moaned and threw his head back.  Cas found Dean’s hand on the couch and tangled their fingers together reassuringly.  Dean’s rim spasmed greedily as Cas drew his hand back, leaving him empty for a moment, but Cas’s finger’s returned, tracing the tips of two fingers in relaxing circles before pushing inside again with both of them.

“Dean,” Cas said.

“Hmmm?” Dean asked.

“Open your eyes for me,” Cas said.

Dean did as asked, slowly, taking in the complete focus written across Castiel’s face with the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, marking how Castiel had them narrowed, minutely, in concentration.  When Dean met Cas’s expectant gaze—nothing creepy about that stare now, Dean thought—he knew it was what Cas had been waiting for.

“You could come just like this, couldn’t you?” Cas said, more remark than question.  “No stimulation but my fingers.”

Cas punctuated his point by crooking his fingertips firmly against Dean’s prostate.  Dean gasped.  He felt aware of the interconnectedness of his body in a way he rarely did in daily life.  It was as if Cas’s fingers inside him had pushed the sound out of his mouth.

“I want to fuck you,” Cas said, and Dean’s hips bucked of their own accord. “When you’re ready.  I want to spread you out on your bed, map out every inch of you with my mouth the way I did once with my grace, and when I sink into you, we’ll be united again,  one flesh.”

“Cas, please,” Dean groaned.

He could no more form his request into words than he could stop the tide of his consciousness flooding outward, swelling toward the red sea of orgasm, and, sweet mercy, Castiel unlocked his hand from Dean’s and started pumping Dean’s cock in time with his thrusting fingers.  When Dean reached the building peak, his mind retained only one word.

“Castiel!”

Dean reached out as his body jerked, finding purchase in Castiel’s hair, only vaguely aware of Cas’s head bent over him.  Cas was still licking the last remnants of come from the tip of Dean’s cock when Dean was able to process his own being again.  He was running his fingers through the long strands of hair on the top of Cas’s head.

Dean grinned at the smile toying at Cas’s lips.  Cas leaned back so he was sitting up straight and rested his palms flat on Dean’s thighs.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said.  He took both of Cas’s hands in his.  “Come here.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas as he settled sideways in Dean’s lap.  Dean turned Cas’s chin toward him, and kissed Cas languidly, determined to steal five or ten more minutes to share the afterglow together before cleaning up in case Sam came back to the hotel to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there will be at least one more chapter and an epilogue (which might be a chapter or a separate piece in the series) before this story comes to an end. Any mistakes are my own. Feedback is welcome, and, as always thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the Megadeth song quoted.


End file.
